


Blackmail at the Seaside

by cnoocy



Category: Ms Fisher's MODern Murder Mysteries (TV)
Genre: Blackmail, Derogatory Language, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-17
Updated: 2019-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 15:00:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21835615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cnoocy/pseuds/cnoocy
Summary: Peregrine investigates a blackmail threat in a beachside suburb, but the culprit may not be who she expects.
Relationships: implied Peregrine Fisher/Fleur Connor
Comments: 3
Kudos: 11
Collections: Yuletide 2019





	Blackmail at the Seaside

**Author's Note:**

  * For [treewishes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/treewishes/gifts).

"Violetta, can I ask you a somewhat personal question?" Peregrine hovered in the door of her friend's lab.

"Certainly, Peregrine. Come in.” Violetta put down the breaker she had been shaking. "This reaction will need some time to come to a result." 

Peregrine came in and sat, closing the door behind her. "Are you and Samuel using any sort of... protection? Wait, actually, that's not what I need to ask. I mean to say, I had a prescription for Sequens back in Cairns, but my stockpile has run out, and I don't particularly want to go all the way back there for more."

Violetta's eyes crinkled as she smiled slightly. "Samuel and I are taking things very slowly, but I do know how to help you. Remember that I teach at a university!"

"So the University Health Services can help me?" Peregrine nodded eagerly, but Violetta shook her head.

"No, I'm afraid not at all. Sparrow's colleague at the University has someone watching them, and he would love to send a phalanx of _polizie_ into there and drag them to jail for prescribing Anovlar to an unmarried woman. You need a clinic that is more out of the way. Let me write down the name of the place, and its address."

* * *

Sunlight shone on the ocean as Peregrine drove along Beach Road into Sandringham. People in bathing suits frolicked on the shore and for an instant, she considered cancelling her plans. As she turned left up Bluff Road, she wondered what had become of last year's Peregrine, who would have done so without much further thought. 

After a quick walk through the halls of a hospital, Peregrine found an office labeled Family Planning Services. A chipper young woman was at the front desk when Peregrine entered. "Ms. Fisher? Dr. Neville is with another patient, but she should be done shortly." Peregrine had just sat when the door opened and the previous patient came into the waiting area wearing a floral dress instead of her usual police uniform. Both of them stifled a reaction as Peregrine and Constable Fleur Connor recognized each other.

* * *

After her appointment, Peregrine exited the hospital with pills in hand to find Connor waiting for her.

"Ms. Fisher, can we talk?"

"Certainly, Const–" Peregrine saw the flash of panic on Connor's face. "–Ms. Connor. Did you drive, or do you need a ride back to town?"

"A ride back to town would be appreciated," Connor said guardedly. "I took the train out and it's a thirty minute walk just to get back to the station."

As soon as they were safely moving, Connor said, "Please don't tell!"

"Don't tell? I won't let you get that clinic shut down, I don't care if it's illegal!"

"Shut down?" Connor leaned back, startled, and thought for a second. "You think I was there as part of some sort of undercover mission to get them arrested? Oh no, Ms. Fisher. I was there for myself, probably for the same reason as you, to get the Pill."

"Oh. Oh!" Peregrine laughed. She had been thinking of the constable as a threat, and it was a relief to find a comrade instead. "I'm so sorry, Constable Connor!"

"Please call me Fleur now that we've met in non-official circumstances!" Fleur chuckled.

"Likewise, of course. So who is the fortunate fellow?"

"Unless you would like me to start drawing conclusions about my colleague Mr. Steed, I will kindly ask you not to inquire." 

Peregrine giggled and pulled the car into the westbound traffic.

* * *

The following Monday, Peregrine arrived at Adventuresses' Hall to find Dr. Neville waiting for her.

Dr. Neville held Peregrine's business card out and said, "Ms. Fisher, last Wednesday you told me to come to you if I or my practice was ever threatened." 

"Yes, though the specific concern I had turned out to be a false alarm." Peregrine said.

"Nevertheless, I'm afraid that a threat has happened."

"Oh, no!" Peregrine sat by the doctor's side. "What happened?"

“This morning, I received an anonymous note slipped under my door at home.” The doctor pulled a folded piece of paper out of her bag and held it out in her hands. It read, “We know yer selling the pill to bikes. Leave two hundred pounds in the tall Red Gum in Royal Avenue Park next Sunday or we tell the monaych.”

“Blackmail!” said Peregrine. “Do you have any idea who is behind it?”

Dr. Neville thought. “There is a small gang of boys that loiters in the park, though they’ve never seemed particularly interested in the hospital. Of course, there are those who feel that what I do is immoral. I don't think they've ever had to counsel a pregnant teenager.”

“Do you mind if I keep this, Dr. Neville? We may be able to get some clues from the note itself. We’ll get to the bottom of this.”

“Of course. And now I must go, I have an appointment in an hour and I need to get home to change.”

As she was seeing the doctor out, Peregrine ran into Samuel and Violetta on their way in. “Samuel! Violetta! I have an interesting task for us!” She handed him the piece of paper. “What do you think we can figure out about this?”

Samuel brought the paper to a table and spread it out as they sat around it. It was thick paper, like stationery, about five inches by seven, with a torn-off section at the top. A thin red and white stripe curved just at the top of the torn section.

Violetta frowned at the note. “I am unfamiliar with this word ‘monaych’ and this usage of ‘bikes.’ I suspect they are rude slang words?”

“Yes,” said Peregrine. “Monaych is the pollice. Bikes are girls who get ridden a lot. You know, sluts.” She smiled tightly at her friends. “But the slang seems off to me somehow.”

“It’s the paper and the penmanship,” said Samuel. “This is good paper, and this is the handwriting they tried to teach us at the expensive school our parents sent me to. They were trying to make sure I didn’t turn out like Birdie. But this is better than I ever did, written by someone for whom it’s second nature, even when they’re trying to sound like a ruffian.”

“So, we know we’re looking for a well-educated person with a taste for blackmail.” Peregrine thought for a second. “Dr. Neville has a decent system for keeping track of her patients without keeping any proof of wrongdoing. And she said she doesn't think the Sandrigham police consider her a priority. So this isn't a great threat, is it?"

Violetta furrowed her brow. "Perhaps the threat is the point. The blackmailer may want to rattle the doctor into desisting from prescribing Anovlar to unmarried women. It is sadly not uncommon for people with a disagreement about morality to try to enforce their opinions with fear."

"So how should Peregrine investigate?" Samuel asked. "Go undercover in the doctor's office?"

"It's not a large enough office for that, and I don't think Dr. Neville particularly wants me to be privy to medical secrets."

Violetta sighed. "If only we had a way to see who had previously complained about the clinic! But since the doctor's work is itself illegal, this isn't something for which we can contact the police."

"Hold that thought," said Peregrine. "That may not be quite accurate."

* * *

"South Yarra Police Station, Constable Connor speaking."

"Fleur, It's Peregrine. Can you come up with a pretext to visit the Sandringham Police Station?"

Fleur pondered for a second. "There's probably an inter-office parcel waiting for the next person to head that way. I could grab it and run it over this afternoon."

"I'll meet you there around two then?" Peregrine asked.

"Absolutely."

* * *

Peregrine was waiting in the parking lot when Fleur arrived, and she quickly caught her up on the situation. "So the main thing we need is suspects. Can you find out if anyone has been complaining about Dr. Neville's practice?"

"I'll see what I can do, but I'm just a visiting officer from the city. They may not be that helpful."

"If not, I'll come up with another way. No pressure." Peregrine gave the constable a pat on the upper arm. "I believe in you."

"Why don't I meet you down at the Rotunda afterwards?" Fleur pointed towards the shore. "That way you're not loitering in front of a police station."

Peregrine nodded. "Good thought!"

"That's how I got to be the constable," laughed Fleur as she walked toward the station.

* * *

Fleur found Peregrine leaning against the railing of the Sandringham Band Rotunda, finishing an ice cream cone while watching the beach. Peregrine turned to Fleur, smiling. "I would have gotten you one but I didn't know how long you'd be."

Fleur put a note card down on the wide concrete railing in front of them. "There's one person who regularly complains about feminists being in his beautiful Sandringham. I got an earful about him from the receptionist who has to deal with his calls."

"So what's the catch?" asked Peregrine. "Why haven't you told me his name yet?"

Fleur smirked at Peregrine's deduction. "He's a retired finance man, who's descended from the founder of Sandringham. Very powerful, and on good terms with all the local bigwigs."

"That is just the kind of challenge I enjoy." Peregrine flipped over the card. "Does this Francis Holloway have an office?"

"Not anymore. He does all his business from the Sandringham Yacht Club, and they're members-only. It makes him difficult to investigate."

Peregrine pointed at a large building overlooking a marina. "The one over there? Difficult for you, maybe. Did you bring any plainclothes?"

* * *

A quick visit to the changing shed later, Fleur was back in a dress and the two walked toward the clubhouse. "So are we going undercover?" asked Fleur.

"Only in the sense that we're not telling them that you're a constable and I'm a private detective." Peregrine strode up to a desk marked Membership Services. "Hello! My name is Ms. Peregrine Fisher, my banker is Mr. Summer at Commonwealth Bank in South Yarra, and I'd like to have a day pass to the club so I can decide if I want to become a member."

The man at the desk nodded, picked up a phone, and made a quick call. "Commonwealth Bank? This is the Sandringham Yacht Club, and we have a possible new member named Peregrine Fisher… Oh, really? Yes, absolutely. Thank you very much." He put the phone back down and wrote a note on a pad of paper. With a big smile, he said, "Welcome to the Sandringham Yacht Club, Ms. Fisher. This pass grants you and your guest full access to the club and its facilities for the rest of the day. Please let us know if there's anything we can do to help you enjoy your visit." He detached the sheet neatly from the note-pad and handed it to Peregrine.

As they walked into the club, Fleur commented, "It's very easy to forget that you're an heiress." 

Peregrine smirked. "Look at this pass, though. See the red and white stripe on the club seal at the top of the page? The note the doctor wrote came from the same sort of note-pad." They sat at a table in the dining room. "Will they be missing you at the station?"

"Sparrow's out for the rest of the day, and I told Steed I was helping you with something. He says hi, by the way."

A waitress approached. "Good afternoon, ladies. My name is Jean. Are you interested in our tea and cakes?"

"We are!" exclaimed Peregrine. Dropping to a regular tone, she continued, "and we were wondering if you know if Francis Holloway is here this afternoon."

"That's him across the way, with all the paper," Jean said, pointing at an elderly man at a table who was smoking a cigar as he perused multiple newspapers at a time. As he read, he made notes on a familiar-looking note-pad.

Fleur leaned over to Jean, and said with a conspiratorial whisper, "I think he’s running low on paper. Would you bring him a new pad, and bring us his?” She discreetly held a folded pound note in her fingers where Jean could easily grab it.

Jean grinned. “I’ll bring your order right over, ma’am,” she said. 

“That was smoothly done,” said Peregrine when Jean had left, impressed by Fleur's calm and quick thinking.

“I’ve been on the other side of that exchange,” Fleur replied. “I spent my teenage years serving dishes in a place a lot like this.”

“I was back in the kitchen decorating cakes,” said Peregrine. “Like these!” Jean had arrived with tea and a tray of small cakes. The corner of a note-pad poked out underneath it. Peregrine beamed at her. “Thank you very much, Jean.” 

As Peregrine poured tea, Fleur examined the note-pad. Tearing sheets roughly off the pad seemed to be standard for Mr. Holloway, and Fleur suppressed a cry of triumph when she matched the top of the threatening note. “It definitely came from this note-pad! Let’s see if I can match the handwriting.” She took a pencil out of her purse and lightly covered the top sheet to see the previous page. As the words became visible, she frowned. “This isn’t the handwriting of the person who wrote that note.” She showed Peregrine the paper. The words were written in a barely-legible scrawl.

“Well, that isn’t good. Now what? Ask Mr. Holloway who was using his note-pad?” Peregrine pondered as they had their tea.

“I bet Jean could help us out some more, but I don’t see her,” said Fleur.

“I wonder if she’s taken a break,” said Peregrine, dropping a five-pound note on the table and getting up. “Let’s go find her.”

* * *

They found Jean smoking a cigarette by the back door of the kitchen. She looked up with worry when she saw them. “Oh, I didn’t mean to abandon you ladies! Is everything all right?”

“It’s fine, Jean,” said Fleur, “we just have a question.”

“You aren’t coppers, are you?”

“Don’t worry, I’m a private detective,” said Peregrine. Fleur stayed silent, and Jean relaxed. “We’re trying to figure out who wrote a threatening note on Mr. Holloway’s note-pad.” Peregrine showed Jean the note.

Jean read the note. “Oh, no, is this to Dr. Neville? She’s bonzer. But Mr. Holloway would never write this, he’s a sweet bloke and a big supporter of the women here.”

“But at the police station they said that Mr. Holloway called complaining about feminists all the time." Peregrine looked back toward the dining room. "Is he one of those fellows who just act nice in public?”

“I know those blokes and I don’t think Mr. Holloway’s one of them,” said Jean. “You want Frankie. That’s Francis Holloway the Third, Mr. Holloway’s grandson. He’s sixteen, and he’s a misogynistic little drongo. He usually hangs out all day with his would-be hoon buddies, but I think I saw him coming in as I was going on break. I bet he’s at his grand-dad’s table asking for money.”

“Thank you very much, Jean,” said Fleur as they left, slipping Jean another quid.

* * *

They found the two Holloways sitting at the paper-strewn table. Peregrine approached directly while Fleur came up behind Francis III. “Mr. Holloway,” said Peregrine quietly, “we think your grandson may be trying to blackmail people.” She sat at the table and offered the note.

“I, I didn’t do it! It’s not me!” said the younger Holloway. He tried to get up, but Fleur’s strong hand on his shoulder held him in place.

“Indeed?” said his grandfather. “I think that this note is an excellent match for the cheque you just tried to write to the Bank Of Gramp! What do you think your mother will say about your use of such scurrilous and disrespectful language? To serve in the Women's Royal Australian Naval Service during the Second World War and then have a son who talks about women this way.”

Frankie slumped. "It was something my mate Rolf told me to say. He says that the girls are too independent these days."

"I think the family will need to to have a talk about your mate Rolf and about your actions and your choice of friends." Francis looked up at Fleur. “Thank you for your assistance, ma’am. You can leave him in my care and that of my formidable daughter-in-law. We’ll make sure nothing like this happens again.”

* * *

"Do you think he'll actually straighten out and fly right?" Fleur asked while Peregrine drove along the shore back into the centre of town.

"He did seem pretty scared," said Peregrine, passing a slow-moving bus. "I think Francis and Ms. Holloway will get him set. I did like Sandringham, though. Maybe I will buy a boat and join the yacht club."

"Hah! I can see you in a stylish captain's uniform. Fishing for marlin, setting sail for Tasmania."

"You just watch me, Fleur Connor!"

They laughed as the car sped down the road.

**Author's Note:**

> Apologies for the many errors of fact I have probably made about the geography of Sandringham, how yacht clubs work, and police procedure in the 1960s.


End file.
